“If your pictures aren’t good enough, you aren’t close enough,” is one of the most famous photography quotes by early 1900s photojournalist Robert Capa.
Padres All-Star pitcher Joe Musgrove has never heard this quote. Neither have fellow pitchers Sean Manaea or Mike Clevinger, or any other of the team playing in the National League Championship Series against the Phillies.
Why would they? They are baseball players, not photographers.
And yet, despite having no real knowledge of how photography works, the three, along with a handful of others on the team, have become some of San Diego’s most influential documentarians. Their work could be featured in a coffee-table book and is worthy of a gallery show at the Museum of Photographic Arts.
It all started when Musgrove and his girlfriend went on camping trips and brought along a Polaroid camera, oftentimes giving the photos they took to people they met along the way. When Musgrove saw Braves outfielder Marcell Ozuna mimic taking a selfie with his teammates during a home run celebration trot it gave him an idea.
“I was like we should just get a camera for the dugout and we should do our celebrations like that and then I can give the guys all the photos after and it’s something cool for them to keep,” said Musgrove, who will start Game 3 of the NLCS on Friday in Philadelphia.
So the project was formed. He bought a Polaroid camera online and brought it to work one day. It was an instant success. He documented celebrations of home runs, walk-offs, strikeout-throwing pitchers and sometimes quiet moments in the clubhouse.
The collection of photos now hangs in the hall leading from the clubhouse to the dugout. Most are autographed by the celebrating player. Others have handwritten information about the game. “Jorge Alfaro Saves Mothers Day” is the title of one photo from a May 8 walk-off home run by the Padres catcher. Another has “Musgrove Throws No Hit 7 2/3 Innings in Milwaukee” with Musgrove looking like a rock star with his band behind him posing for the cover of Rolling Stone magazine. Others simply have a date and which home run number it was.
“It’s better if you’re on the receiving end (of the photo) but I like taking them as well,” added Musgrove.
The picture quality would make any professional photographer cringe. Overexposed. Underexposed. Out of focus. Blurry. Terrible dugout lighting. Harsh direct flash. Color shifts. Light leaks. But it is these technical issues that would make any Instagram influencer jealous.
“Yeah, they are not great pictures, but I like the uniqueness of it,” Musgrove said. “It’s almost an antique kind of look to the photo. It’s not super clear and that makes it pretty unique. You never know what you’re gonna get. Some are really good, some are bad, some turn out really cool.”
Added Manaea: “I think that’s the beauty of it. It’s not like anyone’s expecting it to be some amazing photo, it is more about the memory than anything.”
The Padres certainly have made some memories this season. Despite the technical misgivings, the dugout photoshoots have two of the most important keys to good photography: access and moments. Manaea said, “Being able to do it as a player, to take the picture, when none of us are professionals in any way, shape, or form, it’s kind of kid-like. It is just cool. You look back at the wall and you’re like, OK, I that part. I this.”
Many players can’t even pinpoint their favorite photos; there are too many choices. One of Musgrove’s favorites is a simple portrait of him and second baseman Jake Cronenworth standing together smiling at the All-Star Game in Los Angeles. For others the photos remind them where the day may take them.
Then there are the photos that got away. From technical malfunctions to simply forgetting to bring the camera to the dugout make for oftentimes comical reactions.
“We forget the camera up from the clubhouse, and we got to sprint to get it while the guy’s rounding the bases (after a home run),” Manaea said. “There’s a lot that goes into it to get that that one moment. It can be pretty nerve-wracking sometimes. Once you get the people in it, and you just press the button, that’s the easy part.”
In photography, much like baseball, some days just don’t go as planned. Some days the photos don’t come out. They are gray and undeveloped, sometimes come out brown, or yellow, or don’t come out of the camera at all.
“Sometimes we’ll take a shot and it’ll spit two photos out that are stacked. It’s almost looks like it’s got water damage in it or something when like it’s half developed,” Musgrove said. “The Polaroid has been falling apart. I think we’re on our fourth one this year. I was hoping Polaroid themselves would reach out and hook us up with a nice one or something, but they haven’t yet.”
When things go sideways with the camera, Clevinger says, “First we have a panic attack, then try to find who we’re going to blame because you don’t want to be the guy that messed it up.” Clevinger is credited with many of the Padres’ memorable snaps. He was behind the lens for the group photo after Brandon Drury’s grand slam during his first at-bat as a Padre in August.
When players come into the dugout after doing something good on the field, they turn it on for the camera like the most veteran of supermodels for the brief shoots. Manny Machado stands there with crossed arms. Cronenworth squats and flashes two inward peace signs. Former Padre Luke Voit would smash two bottles of water together and guzzle them. Sometimes players try to add props by throwing water, gum, or seeds like confetti into the frame. “It’s your chance to do your own little thing. So I’m sure guys are going home and thinking about what they’re going to do for the next one and stuff and it’s just a cool way to celebrate it,” Musgrove said.
For the players who earn a living being on camera all the time, it seems to matter who is behind the camera. “It’s different when it’s one of your teammates trying to take the picture. You’re very excited for that picture because it’s that one moment,” Manaea said.
“You should have us taking photos of each other next spring training and you’ll get a lot more reaction,” Clevinger said, referring to picture day.
“As the season went on,” Musgrove said, “fans were going crazy over them and buying their own Polaroids and wanting to buy the ones we’re taking.”
He doesn’t know what the end result will be. Maybe auction them off individually or make a coffee-table book.
Of course, the city is now sitting on edge waiting to see how this book will end.
